During Quiet Times
by NiteAuror
Summary: ONESHOT - Seven months have passed since the ineffable plan. Aziraphale and Crowley decide to lay low in a picturesque fishing village for the next few decades to wait out the war to come. Perhaps the slow and quiet life will bring some good. The angel and the demon must adjust to their new life together. Rated M for strong language.


It had been seven months since Crowley and Aziraphale escaped the death sentence by each of their respective communities for thwarting the ineffable plan. The two friends had chosen to settle in for a well-deserved holiday, as it were. Crowley had said just after the whole incident that things were not over. The feud would never be over; it was only a matter of time before the killing began between those in heaven and hell…and those on earth. In times like these there was usually a quietness - a calm before the storm. The demon and the angel believed they could use the next handful of decades, couple centuries at most, to enjoy living as neither representatives of heaven nor hell. They had chosen their faces wisely and, as Crowley put it, they would "need to rest before everything goes to fucking shit again".

Aziraphale's new bookshop on Old Road in Boscastle, Cornwall had a life of its own. The large glass pane on the front door allowed buckets of golden light to pour in from the east. The light rays fell on rows of well-maintained histories, autobiographies, non-fictions, and mysteries. A labyrinth of shelves filled most of the space to the right of the front door, allowing room for the simple wooden desk opposite the entrance.

The floor above the shop was home to two. Soft colours pulled every area together with subtle woodworks throughout. Aziraphale had been very specific about his ideal home environment. A mid-sized room in the house, past the den, was predominantly green. Leaves and succulents filled the room. Light poured in from the open window. This room was for Crowley.

The two had made a home together in the small town with little trouble. There was a pottery shop, a castle, and even a museum of Witchcraft and Magic down the street. Crowley scoffed at that.

So, on the north coast of Cornwall, England, the two friends found their resting place in the picturesque fishing village of Boscastle. What mundane and trivial activities filled their days afterwards were just that – mundane and trivial. Perhaps the two could still find ways to surprise each other during the quiet years ahead.

Aziraphale carefully placed the teakettle onto the freshly polished, silver, tray and sauntered his way back to the den. "Alright. More tea anyone?"

Three strangers looked up from their laps on the pale yellow sofa and stared up at Aziraphale. The brunette girl on the middle cushion cleared her throat and, before answering, let her eyes waver to the others on the couch as if to answer for all of them, "ah, no, thank you." She quickly let her fringe fall in front of her face and placed her hands in her lap.

Aziraphale sensed that all three of his guests were uncomfortable. He wondered why tea and a warm smile weren't helping. Tea always worked for him. "Right." The angel set the tray with its contents down onto the small wooden coffee table. "Well, I'm sure you're all bored to tears of my story-telling. Why don't we move on to the first ques—"

"ANGEL, I'M HOME!" A familiar voice traveled through the front entrance to the small two-story house. The owner of the voice swung the thin, creaky, door open with swift force. "I stopped at three different markets. THREE. Wasn't able to find that ruddy cheese you we—"

Crowley stopped dead at the front of the den, his wide eyes just visible over his low sunglasses, "What the hell is this?"

Aziraphale turned to face his devilish flatmate, mouth agape, "I didn't think you'd be home so soon. I—"

"Who the hell are they?"

"These are our guests, Crowley", Aziraphale motioned towards the three humans on the sofa. "Here we have, uh, Caroline, and Mr. Do—"

"I don't give a damn what their names are. I don't want uninvited guests!"

"Ah, they're not uninvited, Crowley, I…invited them."

Crowley removed one hand from the grocery bags and lowered his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose, peering above them at Aziraphale with his brows furrowed, "I want them out."

Caroline, Thomas, and Mr. Downs all maintained the posture of deer frozen in terror. Aziraphale turned his gaze to his three guests. They did not look comfortable at all. "Ah, excuse me. I'll just be a mo'. Must speak to my, uh, flatmate here briefly."

Aziraphale shuffled up to Crowley and took the brown paper bags filled with produce out of the demon's arms slowly. He placed the bags onto the floor next to him. The angel drew in close to Crowley to avoid being in earshot of his guests, "Crowley, could you please not scare them away! I'll explain everything later."

"AH, WELL," Crowley shouted, "I MAY JUST HAVE TO GO ON A BLEEDING RAMPAGE THEN AND DESTROY THE PLACE AS USUAL!"

"Crowley, please don't—"

Caroline, eyes wide in shock, quickly stood up and bolted for the door, "I—I think it's time for me to head out, now. Nice meeting you, sirs." The lanky, fair-skinned boy, and the older gentleman followed without a second of hesitation. The front door slammed shut behind all three villagers as they made their exit.

Aziraphale gave a disappointed sigh, "You didn't have to do that, Crowley. I mean, really, you've got more taste than that. Have we really resorted to shouting like buffoons when we're too self-absorbed to just—"

Crowley picked up the market bags from the floor, "I said no guests, didn't I? I can show them out…or throw them out however I see fit. It was your idea to live in this wet mop of a town anyways. I can at least decide what wet mop visitors we get in here, can I not?"

Aziraphale proceeded to help Crowley unload the items onto the kitchen countertops, "I suppose but—"

"What were they here for, Aziraphale?"

"I thought that—"

Crowley continued without looking up from his busy hands, "I mean we don't even know anyone in Boscastle yet. Why the fuck were you inviting random townspeople over for tea? We agreed no housewarming parties either."

"If you would just let me finish," Aziraphale tried to get a word in. "It's just that, the new bookshop downstairs has been wonderful so far. It really has. I just thought that perhaps I could use an associate. You know, someone to help keep things in order when we're out and about or – or when the shop gets busy."

Crowley removed his sunglasses and stopped putting away the groceries, "But you love your books. You would never ask anyone for help running the shop. It's your pride and joy. Why now?"

Aziraphale looked down at the carton of eggs he was holding in his hands, "Rent is difficult as it is."

"Rent? Angel, we don't have to work for money. Haven't needed to since – ah, I don't know – the dawn of man."

The angel gave an exasperated sigh, "Yes, but, if we are to be laying low for while and loving a slow and savory life…we won't be able to just conjure up coins as we please. We don't belong to heaven and hell anymore, Crowley. Won't we be… cut off from some of our…perks?"

"That's not how that works. We don't 'lose any of our abilities', Aziraphale. We won't need to work in order to survive here – especially not in this wet mop of a town. Not anything here worth paying two pence –"

"I love it here. You do, too, and you know it."

Crowley grumbled.

"We should try to live as they do. You know, earn real wages, save a little. That sort of thing."

The demon gave a long pause, "Ugh, alright, fine. We'll start the whole spending money thing. But DON'T let it change anything. We try it for three years, 'kay? Three years. And, as soon as it feels too weird, we stop. And then…once we're bored…we'll just, I don't know, rent a farm or start a bakeshop or something stupid."

Aziraphale smiled, "so the bookshop is officially…my job?"

"Yes, angel. You can work for yourself, now."

Aziraphale's smile grew wider.

"So no more…manifesting money," Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right. So does this mean I can invite a few people over for tea now and then…you know, now that we are…" Aziraphale trailed off.

Crowley stepped toward his eager companion, "You know, if I haven't been giving you enough attention, angel, you could have just told me." His left hand reached up to cup Aziraphale's face.

Aziraphale looked down at his shoes.

"I have quite literally known you since the beginning. I can tell when you're lonely."

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring those people into our new home. I just wanted the company, I suppose."

"I was only away at the market."

"You were away at the market _this time_. What about when you're away from dawn to dusk for four days. I don't know where you go or what you do and….I get left here." Aziraphale's eyes began to fill with tears.

Crowley made a face of remorse, "Angel, I'm sorry. I know I leave you. I need to do better. This whole…not entirely being a demon of hell anymore is still an adjustment for me. I haven't been giving this new life – our new life the chance it deserves. Starting today, we stop wandering earth without a purpose and we start belonging to each other."

This made Aziraphale incredibly happy, happier than he'd felt since first moving in with a demon he'd only known for hundreds of thousands of years.

"So…no other flatmates then?"

Aziraphale shook his head still with a smile, "No other flatmates." He paused before reaching to take the demon's hand in his own.

Crowley's free hand rested in Aziraphale's light curls.

Aziraphale released his grip from Crowley, "sooner or later…you're going to have to tell me where you go."


End file.
